


the ring and the fish

by syn0dic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Minor Other Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syn0dic/pseuds/syn0dic
Summary: another familiar tale from fodlan about duty and fate, and the way things come back to us someday.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	the ring and the fish

Once long ago, in a kingdom now long gone, was a young knight. He had, in his years of life, come into a life debt to the young king of his kingdom, and in fealty and loyalty, befriended the other young man. He was born to a family of blacksmiths, and to a people who in their own land were then shunned and brought low by foreigners, yet his virtue as a knight was paralleled by none. He was tall and strong, yet gentle and wise was his heart, and patient his nature. Dark was his skin, handsome his face, silver his hair, and oceans his eyes, and the young knight was, when he smiled, handsome, regarded by all as such. There were few that did not respect him by his nature, and he was closest to the king, counted among the dearest of his friends.

At that time, all those who were knights in the service of the king were given rings of signet crests, to show that they were of importance to their land, and that respect was due to them, and each of these rings were given to them in great ceremonies and feasts. The time came for the young knight to receive his ring, and a feast was held in his honor.

Yet as the first flask of wine was opened, and before it could be poured, there entered a cloaked figure, flinging wide the doors of the palace hall, the wind following in their footsteps. The hall went silent, and all festivities stopped as they approached. They took down their hood, and upon the revelation of their face, all knew that they were in the presence of the ashen demon, they who knew both the future and past as it was written, and they who would control the wheels of fate. They raised their hand, and pointed it to the young knight.

“Young one,” they said, “come close. It is a day in your honor, is it not?”

“It is,” said he, fearless as he stepped forward.

“I have seen your future as it is written. You shall be a great knight indeed,” they said, “but there will come a time when your ring shall sit in the hand of another, and you shall put it over their finger yourself. At that time, you will no longer be a knight to the king, and you will leave your duties behind you.”

And like smoke, the ashen demon vanished into the air. The court began to murmur and stir. “How frightening,” said one knight. “A coward,” said another. “He cannot be trusted,” said the last. Yet the king came and laid a hand upon the shoulder of his friend.

“Brother of mine,” said he, “even a day of your loyalty to me is a gift. Let us not lament that which will come to pass, and let us celebrate what we have been given. Come, the festivities have not yet begun. You are dear to me, and I shall not be hindered on that matter.”

Yet the knight took all of these things in his heart, and after the festivities ended in the very earliest hours of the morning, he left upon his horse, and went to the sea, far miles from the palace. As far as he could, he threw the ring into the ocean.

In those days, there was a young man in this same kingdom. Clever was he, and swift footed, quick with hands, and gentle in spirit. He had light features, freckles and eyes of emerald, and hair of a feathery gray, impish by nature. He was as fine a bowman and hunter as one might seek, a sensible herbalist, and an avid reader, but even finer was that which he cooked. Beautifully could he create things as if from thin air, a conjurer of sweet and delicacies, a wizard with the natural domestic arts.

Yet he was bound by duty; the young man had two young siblings, and no longer did he have parents, for they took ill and had passed on. No matter how the young man tried, he had to care for them, and thus often needed to steal. Yet so fine was his cooking and so sweet his nature, that one of the bakers took pity upon him, and gave them all a place to stay. The young man grew in skill and repute, until the very palace of the king sent for him that midwinter.

The young man was brought before the court, all people of nobility or knighthood of great renown, and so fearful was he that he kept his eyes fixed upon the floor, and knelt before the king.

“Rise,” said the king, “for you are famed and esteemed for how capable you are! You need not kneel in our presence. I am inviting you to help prepare the feast for the midwinter festivities, for you are renowned for your talent. It shall be three days and nights, and shall end upon the New Year.”

“An honor this is indeed,” agreed the young man. “I shall have to bring the finest of ingredients for such festivities. It is a week to the beginning of the festival, so I shall see you upon .”

Yet the knight saw him and felt familiarity; he, too, was a studied cook, and the kindness in the young man’s eyes warmed his heart with kinship. He, as well, had been through hardships and loss, and it was written on the young man’s face that he had not had an easy life. Yet still the young man left the court with a proud smile, preparing for a three day feast that was likely one of the greatest honors he could have had bestowed upon him. He was quite glad, for it also meant that he and his young siblings may soon have been able to stay at the palace should the king invite him to become the cook from there on, and no longer would he need to rely on the kindness of others.

In a week’s time, the young cook returned to the palace, with the ingredients for the next morning in his arms. Soon, he would begin, and that night, he made all of the preparations. He cleaned the vegetables, chilled the butter, made the doughs to rest overnight, and laid out the cuts of meat for the festivities. Fat pork sausages, roast quail, mushrooms, root vegetables, and hearty bread of fine flour was to be prepared, and he was quite busy all throughout the evening. Then, as he was preparing to do the dishes, the knight entered the kitchen.

“Is there anything with which I may help you?” he said courteously.

“Help me put away pots and pans,” said the young man, and so the knight did.

“I hate to intercede,” he said, as he walked past that which the young man had prepared, “but might it be a better idea to spice such things differently? In the winter, many things are made more flavorful with seasonings that have a warmer taste.”

“I supposed the simplicity might have worked,” admitted the young man, “but you seem to be a good cook as well. Could you show me?”

“Certainly,” said the young knight, and he chopped fresh herbs, ground dry spices, and left them in a bowl. Quietly, the young man watched him.

“You have lost someone,” said he. “You cook like it is for a family, yet you are a knight without one.”

“I have,” confirmed the young knight. “My family taught me to cook in this way, and they have passed.”

“I’m sorry,” said the young man, and the two stayed late, tending the kitchen.

The next day, the feast was praised by everyone-- the court stayed long, and there was little left to remain. “The finest we’ve ever had,” said one of the knights, “and I couldn’t eat another bite.” So vanished all of the food, as if by magic, and the young man was astounded. That very evening, he began preparing for the second day’s food. Yet the young knight showed up once more, this time before his preparations began. He had planned to prepare pies, tarts, cakes, and marinated meats, with plenty of vegetables aside. The butter crusts were to be kept to chill, the fruit was to be sliced and soaked in lemon, the doughs were to rise, the marinades were to be prepared. Yet the young man smiled at the knight, elbows deep in a sticky bread dough.

“Good evening,” said the young man with a keen smile. “If you want to help, you can slice the fruit, and prepare it. Do you know much about pastry making?”

“Less than I know of other sorts of cooking,” said the young knight.

“Then I can teach you. I apprenticed under a baker, and he kept a roof over my head.”

“Then you have not had an easy life, either,” said the young knight.

“I have lost people,” he agreed. “My parents are dead, and now I care for my younger siblings alone. The baker taught me to make these things.”

And so the young man taught the knight the right way to fold pastry crusts, the correct way to lay sliced fruits, and the delicacy with which to apply egg wash. Late did they remain talking-- learning of one another, speaking of their craft and their friends and their pasts, and once again both did not rest until the late hours of the night.

The next morning, the young man was up early to cook, and the meal was thoroughly praised. The pastries were flaky, the bread sweet, the meat juicy, and the seasonings perfect. “Never have I tasted something so good,” said one of the other members of the court. The night was spent in revalry and gay celebration, and even the king, ever a little blue, joined the merriment.

Yet the young man had decided he was to surprise the young knight-- and that night, he made his many preparations in his own home, and went to the market. He bought the most fair, large fish he could find, and prepared it to cook whole the next day and serve at the banquet. Excitedly, he cooked the next day, thinking fondly of how proud he would be to surprise the knight.

The last day of the banquet was brilliant. The hall was lit with high chandeliers, and the starlight and moonlight alike streamed through the windows. Brocade tapestries hung from each wall, and the tables were set with the most opulent foods the young cook could have ever remembered preparing. Each member of the court wore the best of their finery, and the king had invited the young man to sit alongside the court, for his place in the merrymaking, and he accepted. Yet he had a special plan; he had prepared a dish just for his newfound friend, and the young man would present it to him himself.

He brought it up from the kitchen as they began opening the first wine bottles, and hesitantly set it down. “As gratitude,” said the young man, “for your compassion and kindness over the last few days.”

“I should be thanking you for yours,” said the knight, “but you have done a fine job. I hope there comes a day when I can repay your friendship.”

“Thank you,” said the young man, sitting by his side. The knight reached for his fork and knife, to properly cut the fish-- and as his knife ran through the fish’s belly, the tender cooked flesh falling away, there was revealed his ring.

“Oh my,” said the young man, “I am sorry that such a thing happened.”

“Please do not apologize,” said the young knight. He picked up the ring, cradling it in his broad palm and holding it to the light. It was carved with his signet. The gem was still glittering in the light. The gold was yet untarnished. It was as beautiful as it had been the day all those months ago that he had thrown it into the sea, and now it had come to him in the belly of a fish, from a new friend. What twist of fate was this! He was ready to tuck it away in his pocket, when he heard the king.

“Your ring,” said the king. “I thought you had thrown it into the sea?”

“It has returned miraculously,” said the young knight dryly. The young man looked confused, and the knight hesitated. He had grown very dear to him, and he had found in him a spirit similar to his own. He was as close to a new friend as the young knight had made in a very long time, and he had brought him his ring. He turned it over in his hand.

“My friend,” he said, turning to the young cook, “would you open your hand?”

“Of course,” said the young man, and he held out his palm. In it, the knight laid his ring.

“To me,” he said, “you have been as dear a friend as I could have asked for. There is no binding of debt between us, nor any knighthood, yet you have treated me as an equal. My king,” he said, turning to him, “may I be relieved of my service as your knight?”

“You may,” said the king with a proud smile. 

“Shall you be my friend and partner, then?” said the young cook. “I am afraid for so long I have known only those that rely on me, and masters as an apprentice, that I will not know how to be as dear a friend as I ought to be. Yet I may yet try to learn.”

“Then I shall learn by your side,” said the young knight. In a year’s time they were both wed, and it is said that the young cook was buried with the strange signet ring of the royal court all those years later-- as if it was meant to be there.

~<>~

“Dedue,” said Ashe, holding up the parchment, “Dedue, look at this.” He smiled at the back of the archives, having spent the afternoon searching for the right citation with his fifteenth century literature class. His boyfriend, bless him, had decided to tag along.

“What is it?”

“It’s one of the ashen demon manuscripts.” He beamed. “I wish they’d included recipes with it, it seems fun. Here,” he said, handing it to Dedue.

“Of course it’s about knights,” said Dedue, not unfondly, and Ashe grinned.

“Well, it’s historical!” He laughed. “And it’s a nice story.


End file.
